Chapter 6 - Anna’s notebook
I did not react in front of Lucas.
I waited until that night.
After dinner, after bath, after I checked beneath his bed for monsters even though he insisted he was too old for that.
Then I opened the metal cabinet in my bedroom.
Anna’s things.
Not many.
Wedding photographs.
Her nursing badge.
Letters.
A small spiral notebook.
I had never read the entire thing.
That sounds strange.
But grief creates borders.
Some objects become countries you’re afraid to enter.
Anna worked as an accountant before Lucas was born.
Later she handled part-time books for local businesses.
Including, for six months, Blue Ridge Municipal Services.
I had almost forgotten.
Why?
Because it was two years before she died.
Routine work.
She quit suddenly.
Told me the owner was difficult.
I accepted that.
I opened the notebook.
Most pages were ordinary.
Grocery reminders.
Lucas’s pediatric appointments.
Tax notes.
Then near the back:
B.R.M.S.
Invoices don’t match fleet logs.
County vehicle IDs repeated.
Parts charged twice.
Henderson connection?
My pulse changed.
She had noticed possible billing fraud.
Then another page:
Talked to C. Says stop asking.
Who was C?
Next:
Daniel can’t know yet. He’ll turn this into an investigation.
I almost smiled painfully.
She knew me.
Then the final relevant entry:
If anything happens, envelope with Mara.
Mara.
Anna’s older sister.
We had barely spoken since the funeral.
Not because of conflict.
She moved to Oregon.
Life drifted.
I called at 11:30 p.m.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Daniel?”
“Did Anna leave an envelope with you?”
Silence.
That answered enough.
“Mara.”
“She told me never to give it to you unless someone came after Lucas.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“She was scared.”
“Of what?”
“She never told me everything.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
Then Mara said something I did not expect.
“Daniel, someone called me yesterday asking about it.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
Same pattern.
“Name?”
“She said Carol Vance.”
I didn’t know Carol Vance.
Rob did.
The next morning, when I showed him the name, he went still.
“Carol Vance worked county procurement.”
“Worked?”
“Until she disappeared four years ago.”
“Disappeared?”
“Resigned. Moved. Nobody knew where.”
He pulled up an old employee photograph.
I stared.
The woman in the image was Mrs. Sharp’s older sister.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
And according to records, Carol had been the procurement officer responsible for the exact fleet contract Blue Ridge was trying to win again.
May you like
Mrs. Sharp had told us she knew nothing.
Now I wondered whether she had lied about more than the money.
